Stalking Evil
by InsantiyInc
Summary: A mysterious stranger appears at the rogue encampment claiming to be on the trail of the Dark Wanderer. He soon runs into unexpected trouble however at the hands of an old foe. Please read and review. If you'd like to see more of this story, let me know.


Disclaimer: I don own the rites to Diablo or its characters as they are all they property of blizzard. The character of Rythe however is purely my own creation and thus is not the property of Blizzard.  
Stalking Evil  
  
Chapter 1  
A cloud of despair hung over the rogue encampment. Kashya shook her head slowly as she watched her sisters heft the corpse of yet another would-be hero into a hastily dug grave. Despite her normal skepticism she had had high hopes for this one. He had been a barbarian, with a body like solid stone and a mind to match. But of all the adventurers that had come, swearing to banish the evils from the ancestral monastery of her sisterhood, he had come the farthest and, for a time, seemed to be unstoppable. She chided herself for not being more realistic and turned away as a small wooden cross was planted to mark the passing of a hero, who's name she had already forgotten. As she so often did in times of great hardship, Kashya went to seek comfort and guidance from the one person she knew would never let her down.  
  
Akara, high priestess of the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye, was puttering about her tent, which was well removed from the rest of the camp to preserve the high priestess' privacy as much as possible. Akara looked up as Kashya approached her tent and a weary smile passed over her kind, but weathered face. "There will be others." She said reassuringly, already having guessed what was troubling the rogue's military leader.  
  
Kashya couldn't help but feel better and even let a brief smile grace the corners of her mouth. It seemed that her lifelong mentor and friend could sense just how she was feeling and always knew exactly what to say to set things right. "You're right of course, Akara." She sighed, feeling her mood slip away. "I don't know why I put so much stock in him. I guess I was just hoping too hard that he would succeed where the rest had failed. Sometimes I wonder if we will ever see an end to all of this. Akara?" But the high priestess was no longer listening. Her gaze was fixed on a spot elsewhere in the camp where a crowd of rogues had gathered. Kashya strode quickly forward, eyes firm and jaw set, now every bit the strong and fearless leader that her sisters had come to rely upon. There was no need for her to force her way through the crowd, the rogues moved almost instinctively as she approached, allowing her to move straight to the center of the commotion. Since the recent troubles at the monastery had begun Kashya had witnessed many strange events, but the sight that greeted her now left her a complete loss.  
  
Kashya stared down at the man now kneeling before her, for she had never before seen anyone quite like him. His tall, lean stature and muscle tone told her that he was not a necromancer, but at the same time it was clear that he was not a barbarian either. He could be a paladin, but somehow she doubted that as well. She could see little of his face, for a mask concealed everything below the bridge of his nose and a dark, hooded cloak was drawn tightly about his head, so that only his startling green eyes showed through. His armor was rather unimpressive, consisting only of simple padded cloth. From his belt hung a wide assortment of throwing knives and a glimmering long sword was sheathed upon his back. But these were small things as far as Kashya was concerned. No, her attention was on his outstretched hands in which he held the severed head of a woman. It took her only one look to know that had once belonged to Blood Raven. Kashya said nothing as she took the head of her old friend and gave it to one of her sister rogues for proper burial. Blood Raven had once been a dear friend to her but was corrupted by Andariel shortly after the monastery fell. Now, at least, she would have peace. Kashya turned back to the man who had by now gotten back to his feet. "You have done us a great service stranger, to whom do we owe our gratitude."  
  
"I am called Rythe," said the stranger flatly, "and you can save your thanks. She sought to raise an army of the living dead; that I cannot abide. Those who disturb the eternal rest of the fallen are unworthy of life themselves. The only mercy they will get from me is a swift death."  
  
Kashya nodded slowly, somewhat unsure of how to take that. "My name is Kashya, I command these rogues in battle. The woman you killed was called Blood Raven and she was a skilled warrior. You must be powerful indeed to have killed her." Rythe simply shrugged at this, so Kashya continued. "I am afraid we have little to offer you here, but I will gladly give you any assistance I can."  
  
Rythe nodded. "I could make use of any supplies you can spare, but what I need most is information. I have been tracking a dark wanderer for some time now, I heard he passed this way recently."  
  
Kashya's eyes widened at that. Tracking the dark wanderer, madness! The man must be a fool. "All I know is that he was last seen heading east past our ancestral monastery. Shortly after we were attacked and driven from our home. Now the demon queen, Andariel controls the monastery and thus all passage east." She watched the man's eyes, expecting to see disappointment at this news. There was none.  
  
Rythe merely nodded. "That is all that I needed to know. Now, if you'll show me where I can acquire some food for my journey so I can be off. I must make all possible haste."  
  
"Surely you don't intend to follow him?" Kashya was dumbstruck. "Did you not hear me? Andariel will have you killed the moment you set foot inside the monastery, if you even make it that far. Besides, rumor has it that the dark wanderer you seek is actually Diablo himself. The very idea is utter insanity."  
  
A wry grin showed in the man's eyes. "I know." And with that he turned and walked off, leaving Kashya staring after him, completely speechless.  
  
Night was falling on the blood moor when at last Rythe emerged from the rogue encampment with a full belly and his pack brimming with extra food and water. The rogues had turned out to be most generous once word of Blood Raven's death had spread. He set out at an alarming pace, appearing as a blur of motion to the untrained eye. But this was nothing to him and he could maintain this pace for a full day if needed. For almost an hour he nearly flew over the barren landscape, ignoring the small scuttling beasts that scurried to get out of his path. Things seemed to be going according to plan. He was making good time and, with any luck, would catch up with the dark wanderer before he could reach Lut Gholein. He grinned at that thought and picked up his pace a bit, the sweet taste of vengeance would soon be his. But as he ran, a chill wind blew across his path, bringing with it a foul stench that was all too familiar. Rythe stopped in his tracks, sniffing at the air. "Damn." He swore under his breath. There were undead about, quite a few of them at that. He knew that going after them would mean another delay in his plans, but he also knew that if he didn't, he wouldn't be able to out it out of his mind and it would plague him for weeks after. So with a resigned sigh he dashed off at a right angle to his original course. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for. The zombies numbered no less than twenty and they all seemed to be crowding around one spot. This was very odd behavior for such creatures, but Rythe was in too much of a hurry to be concerned by that now. Slowing to a walk he approached the group, sword drawn. When he was only about six feet away from the nearest zombie he leapt forward, drawing his blade along in a wide, downward arc. In the time it took for the four corpses to hit the ground, Rythe had already struck twice more. Anxious to be done and on his way, the warrior tore through the crowd like a terrible, raging wind, moving fluidly from one spot to the next in the blink of an eye.  
  
Rythe stooped to wipe his blade in the grass before sheathing it. He took one last look at the carnage and felt neither proud nor ashamed of his actions. He was merely satisfied. Now he could set his mind fully to the task at hand. He had just stood up to get his bearings when a voice like the crackling of dry leaves broke the silence.  
  
"You haven't lost your touch I see, and still as predictable as ever." The warrior turned slowly to face the unseen speaker, although he didn't need to do so to know who it was, that mocking tone was one that Rythe would never forget.  
  
"Hmm, it appears I have misjudged you Bone Ash." Rythe said to his old nemesis. "I always thought you were a coward, but now I see that you're just a fool." The skeleton threw back his head and let out a hideous laugh. "Those are bold words for a man who is about to die."  
  
Rythe readied his sword, ignoring the undead mage's remarks. He hated the thought of wasting more time here, but the chance to settle his score with Bone Ash once and for all was simply too good to pass up. "Coming here was the last mistake you will ever make, you feeble mockery of life. I'm going to finish what I started and this time there aren't any demon lords around to hide behind." With that Rythe started forward, but to his surprise Bone Ash didn't even flinch.  
  
"It is you who are the fool, Rythe, if you believe that I came unprepared to face you. I'll admit that your powers are far superior to my own, so I came up with a little something to shift the odds in my favor." His tone was laden with pure malice and a fierce hatred burned in his eye sockets as he reached a bony hand into the leather pouch at his hipbone. "Behold!" He cried, producing a small object and holding it up for Rythe to see. Rythe raised an eyebrow as he examined the thing, it looked like an ordinary ring, but something about it sent a cold chill down his spine.  
  
"If you think that a piece of jewelry is going to save you, you are sadly mistaken."  
  
"Fool! This is no mere ring. This is the instrument of your demise, the Shadow Bane!" Bone Ash slid the ring onto his gnarled finger, cackling in triumph as the thing began to glow with an intense yellow light. A wave of fatigue washed over Rythe's body and he stumbled back with a startled cry.  
  
"What the hell is that thing?" Rythe exclaimed as his legs buckled, forcing him down to one knee.  
  
"You see," sneered the mage in a bony sort of way, "even the unstoppable Rythe has a weakness, I just had to find a way to exploit it. How does it feel? How does it feel to be utterly powerless?"  
  
An enraged snarl was forced from the warrior's lips. His whole body trembled with effort as he tried to stand, but only succeeded in exhausting himself further. With a resigned sigh he let the sword slip from his waning grasp. It was as though a part of him was fading out all together, his strength driven from his body. His mind raced to find a solution; he'd come much too far to fail now. And then, just as his old nemesis raised his hands to deliver the killing blow, it came to him. With a great effort he was able to lift his hand, moving ponderously closer to his belt. His gaze remained locked on his foe as he strained to reach the throwing knife that was enchanted to banish the energies that gave life to the dead. The instant he felt his fingers brush against the dangling blade, a sickly green light sprang from the bony fingers stretched above him and time slowed to crawl. Rythe watched as the spell burned brighter with every passing second and even though his fingers at last found the handle of his weapon, he knew it was too late. "How can this be?" They weren't the best last words ever, but that was the one thought on the warrior's mind now. He knew now his fatal mistake, but that was little comfort at this point. Head lowered and eyes shut tight, he awaited his own demise. The thought of dying did not frighten him though; he simply wanted to be alone with his thoughts for the few remaining moments of his life. He had always known that one day death would come for him, but not like this, it seemed wrong somehow. His time for pondering was cut short by the hideous sizzle of energy. This was the end.  
  
To be continued. 


End file.
